


If I'm Not Honest With You, You Can't Improve

by Gang_Aft_Agley



Series: Let's Go Steal a Star Destroyer [2]
Category: Leverage, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Ceiling Cat Parker, Crossover, F/M, Force-Sensitive Parker, Gen, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, M/M, OT3, Or right before the med bay scene, Parker Needs a Hug, Parker Trying to People, Parker the Former Jedi Youngling, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, canon limb loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 18:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gang_Aft_Agley/pseuds/Gang_Aft_Agley
Summary: Parker wasn't avoiding Luke, per se - just his father's lightsaber.Now that it's gone, they should have a chat.





	If I'm Not Honest With You, You Can't Improve

"Your shields _suck_ , did you know that?"

Luke startled, nearly falling off his biobed in the process; he’d been lost in thought, and Leia’d left strict orders that he was not to be disturbed unless medically necessary.  The voice seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere, and echoed around the small recovery room.

"Excuse me?"  He'd deny it to his dying day, but the words came out a good octave higher than usual, and his voice cracked on the final syllable to boot.

The voice gave an exasperated sigh.

"I _said_ that your shields suck, Skywalker.  You're broadcasting like crazy, and it's a good thing no one else on the _Redemption_ is Force-sensitive."

"No one ... else...?" The medics had given him some pretty powerful painkillers after he came out of the bacta, so the implications of that last statement took several moments to sink in.  "Does that mean ... are _you_...?"

"UGH!"

There was a soft _click_ and the grate covering the air duct in the corner of the room swung open.  A dangling pair of legs appeared, followed by the rest of the voice's owner. 

She positively radiated displeasure, hands propped on her hips and a fierce scowl contorting her face.  And yet, beneath the frustration and mild disgust, he could sense the faintest tremor of old grief, thrumming softly in the Force.

Ben had felt the same way, even if Luke hadn’t been able to identify it as such at the time.

"Please tell me you are not usually this stupid," she continued brusquely, "or we're all going to die."

Luke's lips worked silently for a heartbeat or two before he could find words.

"I ... don't ... think so...?"

She huffed, and snatched up the healer’s datapad clipped to the foot of the biobed.  An eyebrow twitched, and her face softened slightly as she scrolled through his chart.

 _Slightly_.

"Well, they have you on the good drugs, so I guess that's some excuse.  Not that your shields were great _before_ , but I thought Yoda would have fixed that first thing."

Luke blinked, horrified.

" _How do you know about Yoda_?" he whispered. If he’d done anything that might lead the Empire to the last living Jedi Master …

She sighed again, this time more wearied than frustrated.  Hooking a foot underneath the rungs of a nearby rolling stool, she dragged it over and took a seat by his bed.

"Like I _told_ you, you're broadcasting: your mind is wide open right now to anyone able to hear."

There was a pitcher of water on his bedside table.  She poured a cup, placed a straw in it, and held it up to his lips.  Luke glared at her suspiciously for a moment, but since both water and cup had been there before she arrived so unceremoniously, he drank.

"That's how I knew you were thirsty," she went on, "and that you didn't think you could manage the pitcher one handed, but that you also didn't want to call for help.  You don't want to be a bother, which is ridiculous, because that's what the stupid call button is _for_."

Luke slurped resentfully until the cup was drained, then shook his head when she offered him another.  He resettled himself against the upright back of the bed, studying his unexpected companion as she refilled the cup anyway, leaving it within easy reach of his hand.  He knew she was familiar, that they'd met before, but it took him a little while to place her.

"Han introduced us once, right? On Yavin, before we evacuated."  He thought back, which was difficult when the drugs made memories slip and curl away like tendrils of fog. “Or, well, he tried to.” 

She nodded, face blank.

"You hissed like an angry tooka and made a Twi’lek gesture to ward off evil over your shoulder as you ran away."

She didn’t deny it, but simply nodded again.  The silence stretched on, with no visible sign of discomfort or awkwardness on her part until Luke shifted uneasily, and cast around for something else to say.

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember your name." 

"It's Parker."  She studied him for a moment, meeting and holding his gaze.  "You really didn't know."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Know what?"  She pursed her lips, seeming to choose her next words with care.

"About Vader.  About your father."

Luke sucked in a shocked breath, heart thundering in his ears.  Parker cocked her head to the side, and her eyes hardened, seeming to gaze straight through him.

"No, you didn't know.  And Kenobi never told you."

" _How_...?"  His voice trailed off, overwhelmed.  The sheer number of questions that sprang to his lips clogged his throat, choking off his words and preventing any single one of them from being asked aloud. 

She smiled, but there was not a trace of amusement in it.  Bending over slightly, she pulled something from her boot and tossed it onto the bed.  Fingers trembling, he picked it up.

The harsh lights of the medical ward glinted off delicate curlicues of gold inlay that ran up and down the object's length.  He ignited it, and a blade of shimmering silver plasma sprang out from the lightsaber's hilt.

"I _could_ say," Parker's voice wavered slightly, "that you told me."  She reached out slowly, telegraphing her movements (always wise when dealing with plasma-based weaponry), and tapped his forehead with one finger.  "Told me up here, with your mind.  But the truth is, I already knew."

Luke deactivated the blade, and let the hilt drop back down onto the bed.  He didn't know what to say.

Fortunately, they were interrupted before he had to say anything. Parker’s head whipped around to face the door just as it hissed open and two men stepped into the room: one concerned, the other silently resigned. 

"Parker, we _told_ you not to bother him while he's still in medical!" the concerned one burst out.  She scowled at him and stuck out her tongue.

"He was giving me a migraine!"  Concern morphed into exasperation with an eye roll and a snort.

"So _shield him_ , or at least ask the docs to give you a hypo, but let the kid sleep off the bacta in peace!"

Now that Luke had placed Parker, it was easy to recognize her partners. Han had introduced them at the post-Death Star reception (with considerably more success than he had Parker), along with the other two members of their regular crew. Over the past few years, they’d occasionally dropped by the Rebellion’s various bases and flagships whenever the _Leverage_ was between missions, or had intel to deliver. Unlike Parker, the rest of them didn’t flee or refuse to look at him.  
  
Concerned was a slicer of some sort, and had helped extract the Death Star plans from Artoo and analyze them to find Galen Erso’s hidden flaw. Resigned had apparently done a few jobs with Han and Chewie before he’d taken up with his current crew, and been sufficiently terrifying for Chewie to name him an honorary Wookie, despite his atrocious accent in Shryiiwook.

(Upon learning that the trio were ... considerably more than just work associates, Han had made a crack about _the incorrigible flirt finally settling down_.  Resigned had stared blankly for a moment before doubling over with laughter: _if I'd wanted to_ settle down _, Solo, I'd'a never taken up with these two, do you have_ any _idea how much'a my life is spent chasing after them and making sure they don’t die?)_

Parker and Concerned - Hardison, that was his name, Luke remembered now, _Hardison_ \- were still bickering; Resigned slouched against the wall with his arms crossed, staring at Luke through narrowed eyes.

"He wasn't asleep, Hardison," Resigned cut in, interrupting a rant about how one Does Not Drop Into Medical From the Ceiling and Wake the Patients Up.  "Don’t have to be Parker to see that his brain’s about to overheat, got too much on his mind right now. Would _you_ be having sweet dreams in his shoes?”

Hardison glared, but had to concede the point.

"That's what I _said_ , Eliot!" Parker crowed.  "Skywalker needs to talk about it, get everything off his chest, or otherwise it's going to fester and he'll brood about it and then the Dark Side happens." 

Luke wanted to be offended by the implication that he’d automatically Fall if he didn’t talk about his feelings with a bunch of total strangers, but apparently there was ... a genetic predisposition towards that sort of thing.  He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.

The three of them exchanged a series of rapid glances that Luke had no hope of interpreting.  Hardison rolled his eyes, and spun on his heel toward the door.

"Okay, I'm gonna go spoof the surveillance equipment, so y'all can talk about murder and the Force and daddy issues and whatever without the whole ship listening in," he announced, pointing at the camera in the corner of the room as he marched out.  "We ain't told High Command about Parker yet, and I don't think the baby Jedi's ready for them to know about his family history either."

Eliot squeezed the back of Hardison's neck as he passed, then levered himself off of the wall.   The door hissed shut, leaving them alone in the sterile white room.  He took two steps forward to crouch in front of Parker's stool, and laid a gentle hand on her knee.

"Do you really _want_ to do this right now, or are you trying to outrun the panic and blurt out the truth before you can think about it too much?"

"The second one," Parker whispered, and her eyes glittered with sudden moisture.  Eliot reached out to cup her cheek with his other hand and she leaned into his touch.

"You want me to do it?"

She swallowed and nodded; he nodded back and wiped a few of her tears away with his thumb.

"You wanna hide in the air ducts _while_ I do it and yell at me when I get things wrong?"

She nodded again, and Eliot patted her leg and stood to offer her a hand up.  He gave her a boost into the ventilation shaft, letting her use his cupped hands as a foothold. Her lightsaber was handed up after her, and the grate _snick_ ed softly back into place

Eliot grabbed a box of medical tissue from the top of a nearby cabinet and took Parker's place on the stool with a deep sigh.  Luke just stared at him in the same wide-eyed astonishment with which he'd watched the entire exchange.

"There's a _damn good_ reason why Parker always got the heebies-jeebies around you before now, and it's all tied up with your daddy and that lightsaber you were carrying.  Lotta bad memories and pain attached that piece of hardware, so I can't say I'm sorry that it's gone," Eliot said, raking the fingers of his free hand through his hair.  "Shame your hand went with it, though, that's a rough break."

"Thanks, I think," Luke said, bemused and ever more thankful for those potent painkillers.   "I could be dead, or in the hands of Vader and the Emperor, so I probably got off easy, comparatively speaking."  
  
Eliot raised an eyebrow, and shot a nervous glance over his shoulder before he continued.

"Well, you need to know a few facts before you encounter either of them again, and I expect that's gonna happen sooner rather than later, now that Vader knows who you are."

Luke could only nod, heart sinking into his stomach; his fa- _Vader_ did not seem like a man to let go of something he wanted, once he had found it.  Eliot patted his shoulder, face twisted up in a grimace of commiseration.

"I can give you the bare bones now, tell you what little I know. Parker can fill in the gaps later, if you have any questions.  She's slept with _her_ fancy saber under her pillow as long as I've known her, but she wouldn't say where she got it until after Alderaan happened and she fell over in a dead faint."

The air vent gasped.

 _"I did_ NOT _faint_!"

Eliot swiveled around on the stool to glare at the ceiling.

"Parker, you one-hundred-and-TEN percent _fainted_.  One second you were upright and talking to Sophie, the next you were flat on the deckplates, unconscious, with a lump on your head the size of my fist; I don't know what else you'd call it, but we can say _passed out_ if you prefer."

There was an offended sniff from the vent, and then silence.  Eliot turned back to face Luke, rubbing his hands on his thighs as he visibly steeled himself.

"Tell me, kid: how much do you know about the way the Clone Wars _really_ ended?"

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "The Rashomon Job."


End file.
